


Arrows that Pierces the Heart

by Star4545



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Artist Dan, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmates, Teacher Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6732244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star4545/pseuds/Star4545
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artist Dan is one of a few people that in a world full of soulmates is incapable of love, but his quirky neighbor Phil shows him that maybe there is love for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrows that Pierces the Heart

Arrows to show where everything is. An arrow that pierces my heart. One that pierces through my skin to kill me faster, is that even a thing? Every time someone says that their heart is breaking, I imagine Robin Hood shooting them with an arrow, since Cupid's was obviously defective. Now I'm judging Cupid, but my moral is to be against him anyway. People like me, hate love. That's how we are born without the capability or emotion of love. There are very few of us in a world full of soulmates and lovers. But we live, with everyone being close and kissing each other, I sit there watching from the sidelines, as I could be like them.

If I were to say I would ever want love would be stupid. It seems stupid. Putting in effort to love someone, and sometimes that person never returns that. I don't know how I turned out like this, I just remember going to the doctor, and my parents pretty much blocking me out, as soon as my brother found his soulmate, as soon as cupid's arrow hit him. I wonder what would happen if Cupid tried to shoot me, would it work. Or does he just avoid people like me in general.

I have never met another person like me. I hope to never find anyway, it would probably be awkward and be like,

"So you can't feel love ether?"

"Nope."

Some people like me though, want to feel love, and some people find a way to somehow get the emotion like the way a heroin addict gets crack. It's pretty illegal for the drug called Love. I had heard about it, for people that are loveless like me can get it, or people that want to fall in love faster. I would never. I haven't found a person that I feel strongly connected to and I doubt I will.

I'm pretty unapproachable anyway, or that's how I purposely make myself like. I don't want anyone trying to get to me. My parents, classmates, strangers on the subway, have all ostracized me and my loveless people, for the fact we can't ever love someone. Most of us anyway stay in the shadows where we presuming we belong, still doesn't mean I want to be there.

My life is like a shadow. Darkness always looming over me, like I can't have love, I can't have anything, I will never have anything. I'll spend my life lonely, and goddammit, why do I have to be like this? It's not even like I can go to a club and go get a girl because even if I kiss them I'll just feel nothing, still doesn't mean I don't do it.

Here I am, in a midst of dancing people, that can all love, and kiss, and…Ugh. Everything I can't do, and this girl, one with jeans and a tight tank top is all over me, and I place my hands on her hips, and let it go on, because I'll feel nothing towards this girl now, in a few minutes, an hour, a week, a month, a year. Nothing. Ever. Soon, I've had enough, the song has ended, a new one started, I'm done here. I walk outside, I had a couple drinks so I'm a bit tipsy, but the world is still pretty clear. I can still see the cars passed by extremely quickly, the lights that shine through the city, the graffiti splattering the walls.

I stand outside the club, my hands in my coat's pockets. It's my favorite coat, brown and long, and goes with any outfit. I just stand there, taking in the musky air, the night's breeziness, the world. I start to walk back to my apartment that is more like an art studio than anything. I figure if I can't love, I can at least do something. Art is kinda my thing, I sell it sometimes and somehow I have made a career out of it.

I walk back to my place, ignoring my annoying neighbor that just moved into the complex who can never, I mean never, unlock his door. One of those times is now. The boy's keys in the door and he is pulling it and pulling it, and the door will not open. I open mine with no problem, and I hope to god he doesn't ask me-

"Hey, um…Can you help me with this?" I roll my eyes, and groan. I had two options at that moment. Turn around and help the guy, or go into my apartment and draw. Since at that point, with my head not functioning fully, and I care more for people with a couple drinks in my system, I help the guy.

I look at him, and jiggle his keys in the lock, twisting the doorknob. The door opens lickity spilt. I stare at him for a good five seconds, before going back to my apartment. "Thanks. I'm Phil by the way." I shake my head, and slam my apartment door once I'm inside. By that point I was one, pissed off, and two too uninspired to even do anything.

I go and change into some pajamas, and sit on my bed, staring in my uninteresting ceiling, hoping that I would never have to encounter that idiot ever again, because how can't he open a door. I shake my head, closing my eyes, and I take a couple deep breaths. Not having the emotion of love has channeled other emotions more. Some people become depressed, or super happy, but me, my anger comes out with a mix of every sad emotion on the planet. I just become irritated with everything if they don't bring me a certain amount of happiness or something, that's what my old therapist said at least.

Through all the negative thoughts flowing through my brain, I somehow fall asleep. It was a nice sleep. I never have any dreams or anything, but the peaceful of the night, really calmed me. I woke up in the morning, the morning sun creeping through my window. I had a headache, it was barley there, but I knew that this headache would make me do something and get up. I sleepily walk out of my room, and I sit down at my table. I lie my head down for a spilt second, before picking up my pencil, starting to draw an outline of something.

Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door, and I at first ignore it, but the person persists, and keeps on knocking. I groan, thinking it might be one of my clients, only to see it is the annoying neighbor I could barely remember from last night. "Hi," I roll my eyes.

"Look man, I was kinda tipsy last night, I don't really remember your name." The man's smile falters.

"Phil. What's your-" I close the door in his face. "HEY!" I open it again.

"My name is Dan, and I would really like to keep this as a once in a while hallway thing." Phil smirks.

"Okay, bye Dan."

It seemed from then on Phil would always be attempting to open his door when I would get back. At first I thought he would somehow sense me coming and rush outside, but normally I would see grocery bags with him, and unless he packed random things into bags, it is just a mere coincidence. He smiles at me, and I put my bags down to get my keys out. "What did you buy?" I look at him.

"Art supplies." He furrows his eyebrows.

"You're an artist."

"No, I'm a fireman! Of course I'm an artist!" Phil smiles, and stops trying to fidget with his door.

"Can I see some of your artwork?" I open my door.

"Not unless you're going to buy something." I walk in, and Phil follows behind, his groceries in hand. If this was a cartoon, Phil's jaw would definitely be down on the ground. He drops his groceries, and runs over to my artwork. He picks up a piece before I could even say, "That one isn't dry yet."

He immediately puts it down to look at one of my most expensive pieces. Phil smiles, looking at the combination of colors that fill the canvas. It was a painting of a dripping heart, I have spent a lot of time getting the colors exactly right, and- "How much is this, Dan?"

"500." Phil's eyes widen.

"Why so much?"

"I need to be able to pay for things, like rent and supplies. If you can't afford it then you don't have to feel guilty." I say, putting some of my art supplies into their respective drawers, before my phone rings. I sigh, taking out my phone. I see it's my biggest client, who will and can pay the 500 for my art.

"Hello Mr. Howell, just checking in. Do you have any new art pieces?" He asks.

"Of course I do." 

"Great, I'll stop by tomorrow for a look."

"Alright Sir." Phil is now looking at one of my oldest pieces, which I still haven't sold. "75." Phil smiles, putting it down carefully, and getting out his wallet. My eyes widen, not in two years has anyone bought that piece from me. I've added stuff since I first put it out into the community, and finally someone will buy it. I was overjoyed.

"Can I write you a check?" I nod ecstatically. Phil writes the check, and gives it to before admiring the piece of artwork he had just-

"This check is for 100. I said 75." Phil shrugs.

"It deserves more than just 75." I wanted to hug the man, who has overpaid for a piece of crappy artwork. "Well I must be going, I have lesson plans to write." Phil grabs the artwork and his groceries before walking out the door. I follow him out.

"Keys." I say opening my hand, knowing he couldn't open his door for the life of him. I open his door, and take a quick look inside his apartment, I could tell the art piece would fit right in.

I don't say goodbye, I just awkwardly shuffle back to my apartment. I go and grab a blank canvas and put in on my easel, before I put on my smock and get my new paints. I don't remember much after that, I was in such a trance of colors and paint strokes. It was a mix of blues and greens, and beautiful colors. I painted with such emotions I had never experienced. I never painted like this before. It was close to the middle of the night when my crazy painting spell was over, I was much too tired and hungry to even check what I had painted. I told myself I would see in the morning.

Meanwhile, I went to bed that night feeling uneasy. I didn't know what was up. I still had some paint on my hands that would come off by tomorrow but not right now. I focus on hands through the darkness, trying to find some fault with them. As if they would tell me the answers I am searching for. They give me nothing, and I fall into that uneasy sleep I was talking about.

My client comes in the late morning. I offer him some coffee which he politely declines. He almost immediately goes toward my new piece, which I realize was the most beautiful and interesting thing I had ever painted. It was a pair of eyes almost hidden by what looks like a curtain of stars, a galaxy, and if you looked closely you could see arrows in the pupils of the eyes. It had a beautiful mix of colors. How did I ever do that?

"Sorry sir, that one isn't for sale quite yet." He looks at me, pursing his lips. I don't know what came over me, it just didn't feel right.

"It's a beautiful piece Mr. Howell, I don't blame you." I smile, and he goes on and buys three pieces of art, which I immensely thank him for. "I'll be back soon. Call me if you paint anymore pieces like that one." He points to Eyes, as I decided to call it.

"Goodbye. Hope you enjoy the art." He leaves, and I take a breath, grabbing my new painting.

How did I accomplish such a feat? Most artists in this world, are soulmates, normal. They always do things similar to this, but for a man without love, something like this is amazing implausible. I don't know what had come over me last night, I wasn't drunk, I hadn't taken anything. It was like the emotion was turned on for those couple of hours, to paint this picture. Maybe it was message, a way to get out of this un-destined for love scenario.

It was something so unlike me, especially something with _eyes._ I have never really done anything with eyes, and they were such a pretty color. Light blues and greens which contrasted with the dark blue and black that made up the galaxy. The arrows were purple and pinks. I then at that moment realized a sense of accomplishment, and something else… something I never experienced. I wish I could experience that feeling more often.

For the rest of the week, I was a mess. I barely went out, and didn't do much at all. I painted a couple pieces, but I couldn't shake the weird feeling inside me. It was like that uneasy feeling I experienced that night is now permanently inside me. I couldn't stand it any longer, I needed to talk to someone, but I had no one. My parents hated me, and I didn't have any friends. The only person I could think of was the person I loathed, Phil. A desperate option, but I knew he would take my mind off of everything.

I freshen up, and hesitantly knock on his door. The feeling had overwhelmingly consumed me as Phil opened the door. He was wearing a nice plaid shirt and slacks. "Oh Dan, m'still in my teacher clothes. I got home like an hour ago, I've been busy with report cards and such. I haven't had much time to do much- Please come in." Phil's apartment was the opposite of mine. Warm, cozy, colorful, and most importantly clean. Filled with colors, and a cheerful persona.

"Thanks Phil."

"What's up, did you get locked out of your apartment or something?" I shake my head, pursing my lips. "Sorry if that sounded rude, but I would never think you would come over to hang out."

"Just my apartment was giving me a bit of a headache and I just needed to get out, probably because of the paint fumes and such." Phil nods.

"Understandable, need anything?" I shake my head. Phil leads me to his table which had a laptop placed on it. "I need to finish up these grades." Phil says, running his hand through his hair.

"What subject do you teach?" Phil sits down at and starts typing erratically on his laptop. On it was a small sticker reading, _Phil Lester._

"High School English." And then I imagine it, Phil as a teacher. His quirky antics I've only seen a couple times where very teacher like, and he seemed like the teacher everyone would want to have. Hot, Mr. Lester. I then realize that I just called _Phil_ hot. What was wrong with me? What was going on with me? "Stop staring at me!"

"M'not staring. I can't be staring! I physically can't be."

"Why not?"

"I'm incapable of love." Phil looks up at me. I could see him mumbling under his breath.

"Oh. Please leave then." My heart seems to sink.

"What?" I was confused, why did I care? This was Phil. I should be overjoyed he kicked me out.

"I said leave. I don't want you here. _Adios."_ I was speechless, and I know I should've of left, but I couldn't. My feet weren't moving and I was unsure of why.

"No! What's wrong with it? I could never fall in love with you anyway, if that's what your scared of." I could see Phil's jaw clenched, and hands in fists.

"Stop, okay. You can't do this. I-I've been dying over here, hoping every day for you to come over, and to fall in love with you, and everything. Then you finally come over to find out that you can't possibly ever love me. I should of known it. Just please go…" It was Robin Hood all over again, I haven't felt like this since I was a little kid. Before I found out, when a little piece of me could in fact love and get hurt by me, and Robin Hood is piercing my heart once again. Trying to make me numb, and get me to go and die.

I left, knowing I should leave Phil alone. It wasn't worth it. He was right, I didn't mean to but I kept leading him on with an invisible leash. I walk back into my apartment, sliding down to lean again the door, tears don't come out. I haven't cried in years, but I wanted to. The pain I felt was immense. I pick up _Eyes,_ and I realize those eyes, the ones that I have looked at trying to analyze, were my neighbors. I couldn't get myself to look away, and something sparked. I look at it a million times. I put it down, and go into my room only to think. Phil, Phil, Phil. My mind was racing, and it wouldn't stop. He was so close, yet so far.

I find myself painting with that same passion that once ignited me what seemed like so many nights ago. The pinks and blues, and browns. I had no clue what I was doing. It was like everything I once knew was thrown out the window. Music was playing, but it was now blatantly ignored. I started to worry about myself by the time I was done. A cliché arrow heart with the background being half blue and half brown. Phil and my eye colors. I couldn't bring myself to do anything with it, but I find myself going to my bed to sleep. Sleep a long sleep.

It's been two weeks since Phil had talked to me. I hadn't seen him get stuck at his door recently, and that ether means he has found someone new, or learned how to open a door. I figured that he was just hurt, and he deserved his time alone. Meanwhile my art pieces have become more impressive, which means two things. More people starting to take notice of me, and more money, which sounds self-centered and ignorant, but I really started to need that extra money. It was nice to actually have money for food and art supplies at the same time.

It was after an excruciatingly long painting session that I realize my art had started to look like all those soulmate artwork I despised. It was because of Phil, I know it. The boy had completely changed my mindset, and I don't know what is even going on anymore. My feelings were all jumbled and I had no clue what that meant, or anything really. All I knew was that my paintings were somewhat good, and beautiful at that.

After the newest painting was dry, I knew, even with my little knowledge of Phil, he would love this painting as much as I do. I grab a sticky note, and write _Thought you would like. It's free, and yes this is my way of saying sorry._ I stick it on the canvas and put it outside the door and knock before running back inside my apartment.

It takes a while, a couple days, before I get a knock at my own door. Phil is standing there, in his teacher clothes, hands behind his back. "It's beautiful." Is all he says.

"Thanks." My heart does a weird thing I'm unfamiliar with.

"Can I come in? I'm locked out of my apartment. My key is in my school bag…at school." I move out of the doorway, and he smiles when he sees all my art. "Sorry about overreacting. I just thought we had something going. I thought you could love."

"What is it like?" Phil looks at me.

"What?"

"Love."

"I don't know, never really felt it. I mean it's like- um-"

"Teach me how to love, Phil." Phil picks up _Eyes._

"I don't think I can Dan." He puts that one down, and looks at my other ones. "What's with you and arrows."

"Well, Cupid shoots arrows and makes people fall in love, and I can't do that… Love that is."

"So shouldn't you be painting broken arrows, I mean that makes the most logical sense. Since intact, full arrows would mean love." I shrug, coming up behind him.

"I think I like the idea of love, it's just I get annoyed by it. But I want to feel it, and when I'm with you… I feel weird. Like it's trying to… come out. Like I want to love it's just not fully working." I say, and Phil looks at me. He leans down and captures my lips in his. It was weird, small little sparks I would feel, more than anything I've ever felt before, but it wasn't fully there. His lips leave mine, and I actually feel tears come out of my eyes.

"FUCK! It didn't work. I thought this was going to be like a princess story with true loves kiss and everything would be alright." Still the tears were coming down and Phil places his lips back on my yet everything around me was crumpling down.

"Dan, it's okay. We can-"

"Why? Why do you think we can work this out, Phil? I can't love you! I will never be able to even if I constantly want to. I don't feel anything, barely anything. Why do you still want to be with me?" Phil frowns, taking my hands in his.

"Because I like you, Dan. Through everything, I'll always like you. To me it doesn't matter, I just want to be with you, even if that means you can never love me." I frown, now more than ever wishing I wasn't born like I was. I felt so many arrows pierce through my heart.

I thought at that moment there was only one thing to do. Get _Love._ Some doctors prescribe it to depressed people, but my doctor would never prescribe it to me. I could always get it illegally, but that's too much of a risk. I look up at Phil, his eyes shining with hope. I kiss him again, knowing I would now feel nothing, but at least it was nice. I knew leading he on wasn't a good option, but he was different, he made me feel different.

Weeks passed and whatever was going on between me and Phil was still going on. I would give him my favorite pieces, and he would come over and give me kisses. I liked it, whatever it was. My art career has remained stable and Phil would sometimes pay for my food groceries, for that I was grateful.

It was a Sunday when Phil took me on a date to the most romantic place ever, Starbucks. It was inexpensive though, and it was Phil so I accepted it. He held my hand as we walked there, keeping my hand warm even though it was spring. We walk in and Pihl immediately hides in my shoulder. I look around only seeing a mix of old people, hipster middle age adults, and teenagers. I chuckle when I realize Phil had seen some of his students. I, of course, wanted to embarrass the crap of him, but I didn't and we walked to the barista to order. Phil was at first disappointed at the lack of festive drinks for the long pasted Christmas, but ends up getting a coffee. I ended up getting the same and we wait for the order. We get our coffees and sit down at a free table.

We start to make small talk, me complaining about how I barley saw him in the past week due to his busy schedule even if we were neighbors. It was a little while into our date, I was halfway through my coffee when a couple of teenage girls came up to our table. "Hello Girls." Phil says, in what I assumed was his teacher voice.

"Hello Mr. Lester, we were wondering what our homework was." Phil looks at me mouthing a 'sorry.'

"Um, to write your paper wasn't it?" One of the girls nods. "Now girls, please I'm on a date right now." The girls giggle.

"We didn't know you were gay, Mr. Lester." I laughed, and Phil looks at me.

"Sorry, it's just… funny." The girls look at me.

"What's your name-"

"Okay girls, enough. Bye now." Phil says, blushing. "M'sorry about that, teenagers. Where were we?"

"It's fine." I say, drinking the rest of my coffee. I could see Phil fidgeting while slowly drinking his coffee. He looked pale, paler than normal.

"Dan… I need to tell you something," I look at him. "I've felt like this for the past couple weeks and I-I think I love you." The shock hit me, and all I could do was kiss him. Our coffee tasted lips collided and arrows can flying toward me once again. Not the bad arrows though, not Robin Hood's. A different kind of arrow. I take my lips off his, and I feel different, like everything has changed, and I can see is Phil, everything else is blurred. He looks at me, wide eyed, almost expecting me to say those three words back.

My feelings were so messed up and everything, I wasn't thinking when I said, "I think I love you too." Phil smiles, a big one. "I feel weird, like cupid's arrows have shot me twenty thousand times."

"Dan…"

"No like actually Phil. I love you. Oh my god, is this what love feels like? It's wonderful, Phil. Warm and fuzzy, everything I want… and you."

Arrows don't always kill you, it depends how you use them. Cupid, for example, uses his arrows for good, to make soulmates be together. Maybe those arrows thrown at me when I first talked to were Cupid's defective arrows that when thrown at me snapped, almost working yet not working fully. So he kept trying and trying to get me and Phil to be together, and it was happening but slowly. I still don't know why it seemed after Phil said those three words, the arrows stuck, why I could love. The world works in weird ways, but through my eyes, if you look closely you can see inside where there is an arrow piercing through my heart will always be there and engraved on it is one name, _Phil._


End file.
